Full of Hot Air

The hot air balloon sailed over the farm early Sunday morning. I woke late - 7:30 a.m. - and I was looking out the window at the garden when I saw the balloon crossing the fields.

I think hot air balloons are pretty and I have been up in one. I took a trip in 1985, I think it was. N.H., who used to balloon around here as a hobby, took me high in the sky. I wrote an award-winning article about it. We took off in Daleville and landed in Trinity. The balloon route roughly traversed US 220 for a couple of miles.

Up in the balloon, sounds are magnified. You can easily hear people talking, dogs barking, cattle getting ready to stampede . . .

And therein lies the problem with hot air balloons and farming. They make a magnificent whooshing sound when the pilot is heating the air. This sound frightens the heck out of cattle and we have had them run through fences before, scared out of their minds.

And the hot air balloonist goes on his merry wary, heedless of the destruction his "fun" has wrought.

It costs a lot to fix a fence.

Another problem with some hot air balloonists is they tend to land wherever they want. And then the chase crew comes in with a big pick up truck and leaves deep ruts in your hay field.

We of course have had this happen. Some hot air balloonists apparently only ask permission if they get caught.

There was a story about this on WDBJ7 recently. The supervisors have decreed Greenfield a no-landing zone for the local hot air balloonist who does this as a business.

I do not know if the balloon that crossed the farm on Sunday was this person or not. It may have been a hobbyist.

Many farmers have informed the hot air ballooners that they are not welcome to land in their fields, including us. Some people, of course, have granted permission. I imagine it all depends on what you use the land for. If you're not making hay on it and it doesn't matter about ruts then it's not a problem, but all of our land is used for agriculture purposes.

Anyway, when I saw the hot air balloon on Sunday, I knew right away that the first chore on the list was check the cows.

My Favorite Font

I ran across an article on Slate today that asked writers what their favorite font was.

The only author they talked to with whom I was familiar was Andrew Vachss, and his work scares me so I don't read much of it.

He uses Courier.

I am partial to Times New Roman 12 pitch. This is not the blogger default.

This is Times New Roman.

This is Arial.

This is Courier.

This is Georgia.

This is Lucida Grande. I can't tell much difference between this and Georgia. One of these must be the blogger default.

This is Trebuchet.

This is Verdana.

This is a webdig. (These are webdings, which I didn't even know existed until just now.)

Mostly I just want what I am working on to be legible and "pretty" when it's printed. Sometimes when I am working on the screen, particularly at night when my eyes are tired, I might switch the pitch up to 14 or larger so I can see. But I don't do that very often.

I use a Microsoft Natural Keyboard and this is actually as important to me, if not more so, than the font. I need to be able to feel comfortable when I type for long stretches and a regular keyboard cramps my hand. I haven't typed on a regular keyboard in so long that I find it difficult to go back to one when I have to.

Personal Update

For those who have asked, things are little calmer here.

My father-in-law is no longer critical and seems to have turned a corner. He may get to come home soon.

My grandmother remains very ill. I am quite saddened to see her so sick. She has been declining over the last six months. She is in a lot of pain and unable to articulate what she needs. She seems to recognize people occasionally.

My husband is still working very hard but we are adjusting to the new routines.

A quarter inch of rain fell earlier and hopefully that will help the fields. The first hay cutting was a little disappointing.

Nature's Magic

Remember these pictures of the view out my window?
We went from this during our "first spring":



To this after a hard April freeze:



And now we're at this! Hurray!

Book Club Reads Poetry

My book club - the Blue Katt Book Club - met Thursday night at the Fincastle library. We used to meet at Blue Katt Art Gallery, but unfortunately it closed earlier this year. I am sad about that, as the building had great atmosphere.

This month when we met, we brought poetry, which we read aloud.

Only four of us showed, but we had a great time. Our book club has no rules and often turns into a nice hen party, and I really like that.

I brought Satan Says, by Sharon Olds. I read a number of her poems aloud. You can find some of her poems to read for yourself here.

Another member brought a book of poems by John somebody; unfortunately I didn't catch his last name except to note that it was not something I would be able to spell. He is a Minnosota professor and was featured on NPR. I liked his work and will have to try to get his name.

Our member who swore she did not like poetry was enthralled by the free verse that we shared. Apparently her efforts to appreciate poems was stalled in school, when she was forced to study iambic pentameter or something. She said she thought she might like to study a little poetry now.

This woman shared the only poem she liked, which was Annabelle Lee by Edgar Allen Poe. (This is a link to an obituary of Poe, quite an interesting read).

During the second to last stanza, my bookmate burst into tears as she read Poe's poem, and could not finish. I sat there, stunned, at the power of a poem to bring such emotion to someone who professed no love of the genre.

Thursday Thirteen

Bad Habits

1. Nail Biting

2. Chewing on plastic toothpicks

3. Eating at 3 p.m. when I'm not really hungry but "need something."

4. Eating too much and clearing my plate

5. Reading while I'm eating

6. Interrupting someone while they talk

7. Cursing (usually only when I am upset)

8. Putting off until tomorrow what I really should be doing today.

9. Procrastinating (wait, isn't that the same as number 8?)

10. Repeating myself

11. Checking to make sure the curling iron/computer/TV etc. is cut off - after I've left the house and must turn around and come back

12. Piling instead of filing

13. Talking too much

Yikes

My posts have been a little sporadic, but for a reason.

My husband's father went into the hospital over a week ago; he remains there. Not sure of the prognosis.

Last night my grandmother had a stroke and they took her from the nursing home to the hospital.

One is in Lewis Gale; the other at RMH.

On top of that, my husband has been running the farm single-handedly, as well as his father's other business.

Just a difficult month all around.

What price for "peace of mind"?

I was horrified recently by an article I read in the current edition of the Blue Ridge Business Journal. The article is not online that I could find.

Entitled "GPS will help you track lost socks, cheating spouses," the article/column advocates this new technology in all things. This is so someone will know where you are and what you're doing 24/7.

Never mind that some of us would like to take a mental health day from work and spend it beneath a tree reading a book without worrying if the spy satellite is going to inform the boss.

Most scary was this:

"Politicians are suggesting that high school students be chipped to prevent truancy."

I think skipping school a few times was one of the better things I did growing up, and I was a straight-A student.

The idea of being watched all the time seems to be OK with a great number of people, but I am not one of them. I like my privacy. I liked skipping school once in a while. I like taking the car for a drive and having no one know exactly where I am. Sometimes I like to not know where I am.

Why must we all be locatable at any given time? Will there one day be a moratorium on the number of times you can go to the bathroom in the future, and if you exceed that you'll be penalized?

How far will this go?

Not to mention nobody has any clue if this electronic embedding in people's skin will cause problems. Our bodies emit electric frequencies; that is why acupuncture and biofeedback and many health technologies, like sonograms, work. They take advantage of the electrical energy in the body.

These chips certainly could throw that off and make people sick. There is concern that cellphones cause brain cancer; what about this?

It's one thing to voluntarily put on a GPS device while you're out hiking so that if you get lost you can be found; it's another to advocate tracking so school kids won't skip school.

We are slowly eroding away our individuality. Things like this surely will turn us all into little robots, thinking and feeling and doing the exact same thing. Creativity will be weeded out like it's some kind of dandelion in the rose garden.

Nobody will skip school. Or take a mental health day. Or drive without knowing where they're bound.

What a dull world it will be.

Green Beans

I love my veggies. Green beans, peas, all of those legumes. Yum.

My favorite way to eat green beans is directly off the vine, washed and snapped and placed in my salad. Crisp and full of flavor!

Baring that, then I like them just barely cooked. Still a little crisp.

That is not the southern way to eat green beans.

We haven't had green beans in ages because I don't "cook them right" according to my husband. (Which is okay; I have never professed to be a cook.)

Green beans to him are supposed to be put in a big pot with a huge wad of fatback, and possibly new potatoes, and brought to a boil and then left to simmer on the stove for about five hours.

What you get is mess of soppy soggy beans that are slippery and which taste like boiled ham.

Husband has been having a difficult time; his dad is in the hospital, things at work not so great. So I am fixing him pot roast, green beans and rice for dinner.

He loves his beef, and he likes green beans "cooked the right way."

This has required some planning, particularly with the green beans, because they have to simmer on the stove forever if I want him to eat them. So I have a pot of green beans simmering. I had no fatback; I threw in a slice of bacon instead.

That will do.

It kind of makes the house smell like my Aunt Neva's. She always seemed to have a pot of green beans in fatback simmering when I visited her aging house in Salem. Aunt Neva was old for as long as I can remember, although she was only in her 80s when she died several years ago. However, I tend to associate the smell of long-cooked green beans with old age and elderly people.

Which may be why I don't like to cook them "the right way" very often. Old age isn't where I want to go.

One Word

I think the best word in marketing is this:

Repeat.

Imagine how much the body care business has made because of that one simple little word. Shampoo. Rinse. Repeat.

That's what marketing is made up of, getting consumers to repeat their purchases. Grab a chip, dip it, eat it. Repeat.

Watch one program on TV. Repeat.

Buy one computer, get addicted. Repeat.

Which brings me to my mother's favorite joke:

Pete and Repeat were sitting on a fence. Pete fell off. Who was left?

Repeat.

Pete and Repeat were sitting on a fence ...

Instead of Working

I answered these questions. They were sent to me.

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Nope. But my uncle stole my name and his daughter, who is two years younger than I, has the same first name and middle initial as I do. My mother really did not like that.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Sometime earlier this year.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? No. It is nearly illegible, very tiny and cramped. It is getting worse as I age.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Vienna Sausages.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Nope.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Probably. I don't know anyone else like me, though. Which probably says a lot, I'm just not sure what.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Moi? Be sarcastic? Never!

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? No. I had them removed in 1994. I was supposed to be off from work for one day; I ended up being out sick for two weeks. There were complications.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Not now. Maybe when I was young. Back then I went up in a small plane. I've also been in a hot air balloon.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Frosted Flakes. They're gre...at!

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?Depends on the shoe.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? I am strong mentally but not physically.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? I don't eat ice cream but I like Chocolate Obsession Soy dessert

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Their eyes.

15. RED OR PINK? Pink.

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I'm overweight.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? The people whom I never had.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU?No.

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Jeans and white sneakers.

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Raisins.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Silence. Well, the air purifier. Plus the bell on the microwave keeps dinging to let me know the rice is done.

22. IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Blue.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS? Breakfast cooking.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? A person I was interviewing for an article.

25. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Women's tennis.

26. HAIR COLOR? Brown with lots of white coming in.

27. EYE COLOR? Hazel

28. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Glasses.

29. FAVORITE FOOD? Strawberry shortcake.

30. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy endings.

31. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, for about the umpteenth time. I haven't been to the theater in so long I can't remember what I last saw.

32. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? White with a logo on it.

33. SUMMER OR WINTER? Summer

34. HUGS OR KISSES? Hugs

35. FAVORITE DESSERT? Chocolate anything.

36. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? I'm in between books.

37. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Go blog yourself. rosie.com.

38. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? I didn't watch TV last night.

39. FAVORITE SOUND? Nature noises. The wind whistling, the frogs chirping, the birds singing.

40. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Stones

41. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Spain and France. I guess that means France, I think it is further away.

42. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I make my friends laugh.

43. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? In a hospital.

More Harry Potter

J. K. Rowling, on her official site, is pleading with folks who might get a sneak peek at the book to stay mum about who lives and dies.

She wants her readers to embark on this last adventure without knowing where they are going, she writes.

Rowling has already said she kills off two main characters. But that probably includes evil guys, too. For all I know, she might mean Snape and Voldemort. They're pretty central to the story, after all.

I also read today that she might pen an eighth book, which would not be more adventures but instead some kind of Harry Potter encyclopedia culled from her extensive notes on Potter's world.

My anticipation for this last book is growing; I am like a kid. I am actually rather surprised at myself.

Books: The Quilter's Homecoming

The Quilter's Homecoming
By Jennifer Chiaverini

On Amazon (From Publishers Weekly):

Chiaverini's latest Elm Creek Quilts installment suffers at the hands of its lackluster hero and heroine. . . . When the couple arrive in the picturesque valley, they discover they have been swindled into the poorhouse by an unscrupulous land broker who sold them a fake deed. Determined not to crawl back to their families, Henry works as a hired hand, while Elizabeth cooks for the Jorgenson family, the ranch's true owners. . . .

2.5 stars

Books:Creatively Self-Employed

Creatively Self-Employed: How Writers and Artists Deal with Career Ups and Downs
By Kristen Fischer

First, a disclaimer: I am quoted in this book. The author took "interviews" as questionnaires on a writer's bulletin board two years ago and I liked the questions and submitted my answers. Some of the answers I gave are in this book.

This book is self-published by iUniverse. There is nothing wrong with self-publishing, but I have yet to read a self-published book that did not need an editor. This book had only one typo that I found, though I confess I didn't read it carefully. I thought some of it was repetitive and some tightening up would have been useful.

Essentially she quoted about 30 different people (there are 70 listed in the back - I don't know if they were all mentioned). We all essentially say the same thing - working for yourself is hard but worth it. There are a few gems of advice in the book, ways to make things easier or reframe your thinking. Readers might benefit from those.

2.5 stars

The Ol' Gray Head

Absolutely none of that white hair you see on the side of my head was visible six weeks ago.

Over the last two months, the white hair has grown steadily. Every morning I wake up fearful that this will be the day I am completely white-headed. And I'm not even 44 years old yet.

First the right side began turning, then the left. My hair stylist is urging me to go for coloring, but I am so chemical sensitive that the last time I colored my hair it made me ill.

So far the white is looking ... interesting. From a distance (and maybe if I squint) it looks like highlighting as opposed to gray.

At least it is coming in almost white and soft.

Floaters and Flashers

Nobody tells you that as you age, your body will fall apart and rebel on you in ways you never contemplated.

Four years ago, I developed a floater in my left eye. Apparently this is an accumulation of old cells that floats around in your eye gel.

Mine was very thick and long, shaped a lot like a sausage. It was most apparent when I looked at the sky or a white background.

I have always thought it came about because nine months earlier I had gone on an antihistamine and, at the behest of my physician, stayed on it all that time.

The result was I felt a lot better but I developed this eye thing, so I stopped taking the antihistamine.

The floater eventually decreased in size. Now it is a wispy thing, a thin line that I only notice rarely.

Two years ago, I started having flashers in my eye. I was scared witless by these flashes of light that simply occurred. Sparklies, I called them. At first they were so imperceptible I thought I was simply imagining it, and then one night I woke with a virtual firework explosion going on in my eye.

We called the emergency room and they hunted up an eye care doctor, who saw me at 6:30 a.m. and told me I had torn my retina. It did not require surgery, but it did require me to start using fake tears every night and every morning (and sometimes in between).

The flashers continue intermittently.

Today I was working and I sneezed. The lights flashed in my eye. Disco lights, I call them now. A line of sparkle here, there, like one of those disco balls rotating in a John Travolta movie.

The sensation lasts about a minute. I always go and use my artificial tears right away, once things clear up so I can walk.

They don't prepare you for this. No one told me that as I grew old, my eyes would do these weird things.

Just wait until I start telling you about my white hair.

Books: The Passions of Chelsea Kane

The Passions of Chelsea Kane
By Barbara Delinsky
Audiobook read by Karen Ziemba

I guess this is a romance book. It's not my standard listening but sometimes you just gotta grab something in a hurry.

It wasn't a bad book. Very character driven. Chelsea Kane is an adopted child who is now 37. Her adopted family is very wealthy. Her mother dies and that sends Chelsea off in search of her roots.

Clues lead her to New Hampshire, and she buys into the local quarry company because it is faltering and her architect company likes the granite it pulls out of the ground.

She also has sex with her business partner and gets pregnant. He marries someone else he impregnated. He was having a potent month.

Chelsea meets a lot of people, falls in love with Judd, discovers who her family is. There is some tension when her baby is kidnapped near the end.

2.5 stars for good character development

Thursday Thirteen

1. Overheard in Books-A-Million: "I ordered Harry Potter but I never got my card to present. I have to have that book when it comes in so I can read it! Can you check on my order?" The words were spoken by a wizened white-haired man.

2. The next Harry Potter movie comes out in July.

3. The seventh - and last - Harry Potter book comes out in July also.

4. I have the weekend of July 21 marked off on my calendar so I can spend that Saturday reading the book.

5. I didn't start reading J. K. Rowling's books until the fourth book, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, came out. Then I went back and read the others.

6. Now I am an avowed Harry Potter fan, but I tend to forget the details of the books.

7. The movies so far have been very well done.

8. Harry Potter has grown up a lot in the books and I appreciate the character development.

9. Rowling has a great play on words and her character names have been well-thought-out.

10. My closest friend has never read Harry Potter. Neither has my husband, although he goes to the theater to watch the movies with me.

11. Once when I was discussing Harry Potter with someone in a restaurant, a woman turned around and informed me I was going to hell because Harry Potter is stuff of the devil.

12. Her son or grandson, who looked to be about 13, told the woman it was only fantasy.

13. Kids can tell the difference between fantasy and reality. It seems to be adults who don't know the difference.

No TV For Me

According to this article, Data Says 2.5 Million Less Watching TV, we're all watching less TV.

Hurray for us.

The article goes on to hypothesize why we are watching less on the boob tube. Maybe we're gardening, working on the computer, "or just plain bored. . . . Everyone has a theory to explain the plummeting ratings: early Daylight Savings Time, more reruns, bad shows, more shows being recorded or downloaded or streamed," the article reads.

The programs on TV are terrible, I think. Maybe we're all "reality show" tired. I'd like to see something fresh and exciting. Something that has a pulse. Something with strong characters, fresh plots, unique ideas.

Something that makes you go "huh" when you're done, and you're glad you watch it.

I don't watch shows on FOX because I won't support the network. I have never seen an episode of "24" or "American Idol." It leaves me out of conversation at the water cooler, but I don't have a water cooler anyway so I don't really care.

My show? The local news. That's pretty much all I watch. I never have the TV on during the day. The only show I make a point of catching is Ghost Whisperer on Friday nights on CBS.

That's because Friday nights are about the only nights I watch TV, and CBS has generally had decent shows in the 8 p.m. time slot. So Ghost Whisperer it is.

The rest of my time I spend reading, writing in this blog, working, doing the laundry, etc. I haven't the time to spend watching reruns or reality shows. Why would I want to watch people make idiots of themselves over money when I can read a book that takes me worlds away and gives me something to think about?

These are some of the shows I have made a point of watching in the past: Cagney & Lacey. Beauty & the Beast. Xena: Warrior Princess. Hercules: The Legendary Journeys. Buffy: the Vampire Slayer. I liked comedies, like Murphy Brown, Cheers, Frasier.

You don't see TV like that anymore. Now everything is Law & Order something or another or its the newest CSI in Iceland. All the same.

Some people don't like to watch forensic science on TV. I am one of them. I don't read Patricia Cornwell books, either.

Give me substance. Give me character. Give me plot. Give me a reason to watch!

Then maybe I'll turn on the set.

Confidentially

Congressman Rick Boucher represents a district in Virginia but not the one I am in. He is, I think, the best Congressman the state has.

While there are muckraking writers who deserve to be challenged (I am thinking of the stories made up about entertainers), I believe that is best handled with civil suits.

The idea of a being hauled before a judge and ordered to give up my sources on a story where I had to quote "officials" is chilling. When the entity seeking the information is the government and not an individual, it is beyond chilling. It definitely is not what I expect to see in a free and open government.

I try at all times to be honest and diligent in the things I write, but I do worry that something I write will be misconstrued or challenged. Things are often misread; people generally read what they want to into the things they see.

One civil case I've been following and writing about for a year in particular has fretted me lately. I know one side sees all coverage about its traumas in court to be negative press and not objective reporting and there's nothing I can do about that.

But that's not going to get me in front of a judge. I am not an investigative reporter and I don't write national news. Sometimes I am quite glad of that.

I think Virginia, by the way, is one of the states that doesn't have a statute that protects reporters. At least that is what I've been told. There may be common law protections, but nothing on the books.

Double Negatives

Writing is hard and thankless work.

I have found this to be particularly true if you're doing what I do, which is act as a quasi-reporter/journalist. I interview people or attend meetings. I write up the interviews and the meetings.

I try to be creative about it. I enjoy it for rewards other than monetary (thank goodness) including but not limited to the opportunity to meet people I would not otherwise meet.

We recently completed our annual "profile" work. This is a major endeavor composed of features from all over the county. It takes some hustling to get this done.

I received one enthusiastic thank you out of my 10 interview subjects, and I was happy to get that. Usually I don't hear anything at all, and I'm left wondering how someone liked a story. Sometimes I hear through the grapevine what they thought or didn't think.

Of course, if there is something wrong with the article, I will hear about it. Errors always prompt the subject matter to get in touch.

Yesterday I received a phone call from another interview subject. Nice article, but there was a grammatical error.

"I don't speak in double negatives," my interviewee said. I had quoted her as saying "not nothing." and this was what she took away from the article, which was 1200 words long.

She did not recall that I had called her lots of nice words and made her sound like someone everyone would want to know. Nope. It was the double negative that caught her eye.

Sigh.

I apologized for my error, because of course I must have written something down wrong.

"I'll never hear the end of it," she said.

"Has anyone said anything to you yet? It's been nearly a week since the paper hit the stands," I politely asked.

No one had mentioned it, but nevertheless, there it stood. A flaw in the face of flawlessness.

And I'd do it all over again, because I really do love my work. Even the double negatives.

For the Birds

This is a baby bird and a parent bird (I think they are doves or pigeons, I am not up on my birds). The only thing I could figure, the baby bird was still trying to get fed from its mother, because it kept attacking the older bird's beak.

It was like they were doing some odd bird dance. Dance of the worms, maybe.

I took the picture through the window.

Truth in Labeling

Recently while I was searching for crackers, I went down the cereal aisle at the local grocer. I usually buy my cereal over in the "organic" section, where nobody has a clue about the brands.

Kellogg's, I noticed, was touting "organic" Rice Crispies and several other brands of cereal. The boxes were about $1.50 higher than the same cereal not so labeled.

I don't know about you, but I have a hard time putting Kellogg's and "organic" in the same sentence. Kellogg's gives us Pop Tarts, after all. Can't get much more non-organic than a Pop Tart.

Organic doesn't mean what it once did thanks to some labeling changes. I think most people think it means "good" and "healthy" and free of chemicals like hormones, pesticides, herbicides, and genetic modification, among other things.

The USDA seems to think organic still means "pure" and good and all of those things. But some people are starting to wonder, particularly when you have a company like Kellogg's' suddenly on the band wagon. I bet they never met a dollar they didn't like.

The government has all of these labels that are supposed to tell us things. It has a website with the National Institute of Health to tell us how to read labels.

I'd like to see some real truth in labeling. Take this bag of Frito's corn chips on the counter in the kitchen. That label says 160 calories a serving. Oh wow, says me, I can dig that. Munch munch.

But wait. A serving is 10 chips. It doesn't say whether that's whole chips or little broken pieces. But there are 15 servings in the bag. So there are 2,400 calories in this bag of Frito's.

Don't you think it should say THERE ARE 2,400 CALORIES IN THIS BAG. Would you buy it if it said that? Maybe not.

The Kraft French Onion dip to go with the Frito's has 60 calories in 2 tablespoons. I don't think 2 tablespoons of dip covers 10 chips. There are 15 servings in the dip, though, so if you can figure out how to spread it out over 10 chips it should all come out even.

There are 900 calories in the dip. Don't you think the dip should say THERE ARE 900 CALORIES IN THIS CONTAINER. Would you buy it if it said that? Maybe not.

Essentially there are enough calories in a bag of Frito's and the accompanying dip to feed one person well for TWO DAYS.

I don't particularly want to live on Frito's for two days. So I should just eat one serving.

I don't normally eat Frito's but I have a really sore throat and a bad cough and I was craving salt. So my husband brought home chips and dip. Wasn't that thoughtful?

I just know he never read the labels.

Movie: Man of the Year

This 2006 release stars Robin Williams. It is directed by Barry Levinson.

We watched it last weekend as a pay-per-view on DirectTV.

We generally enjoy Robin Williams; my husband is an ardent fan. However, in recent years that ardor has cooled as Williams' seems to have become practically manic in his delivery.

Williams portrays Tom Dobbs, a talk show host (think Bill Maher or Jon Stewart) who runs for office and wins.

Meanwhile, there is a problem with the new electronic voting machines sanctioned by Congress. Pretty girl realizes there is a problem, gets in way of big corporation, gets smeared, attempts to tell Dobbs that he really didn't win, falls for him, etc. etc.

The movie had about three laughs and was very heavy handed in its messages. While I agree with the messages, I am not sure they make for good entertainment. Yes, the electoral college system we use is weird, to say the least - a man winning the presidency by winning 13 states? Sure, it can be done with our system.

That was one of the messages.

The other is the complete distrust of electronic voting, and I really agree with that message. I think the machines can be rigged and altered and are totally unsecure. But it's hard to make an entire movie around it, especially a movie that didn't know whether it was a comedy or an action flick.

Maybe if they'd chosen total action flick?

Anyway, I was glad we didn't waste the money at the theater to see this.

1.5 stars

Book: Trickster's Queen

Trickster's Queen, by Tamora Pierce
Copyright 2004
467 pages

This sequel to Trickster's Choice was fabulous. (I reviewed it here.) I enjoyed every word and was sorry to come to the end.

Aly is a great character; a super spy who grows into a super woman. Lots of fun fantasy that is truly secondary to magnificient character building. She is far from home but has found a love, Nawat, a crow who turns into a man. She has found a cause and a passion, and a way to use her skills. She also makes mistakes and her fallibility is endearing.

Now she must help a people reclaim their nation and place the right person on the throne. Is Aly up to the task?

The secondary lead character, Dove, is also very well done. She is 13, has above-average intelligence, and the will to be the leader the people need. Will she always be hovering in her sister's footsteps?

Great ending and resolution.

4.75 stars

Tamora Pierce's website is here.

Book: The Fiery Cross

Audiobook
The Fiery Cross, by Diana Gabaldon
Read by Geraldine James

I was unable to get through the first tape of this book. The reader on the audio kept lapsing into this terrible fake Scottish accent that was unintelligible and finally I turned it off. I refused to waste my time on something that I could only partially understand.

The book's premise interested me greatly and I will try to find it in print. In the meantime, I looked it up on amazon.com and discovered it is the fifth in a series, so I will need to go back and start at the beginning.

Here is what amazon had to say:

The story of Outlander begins just after the Second World War, when a British field nurse named Claire Randall walks through a cleft stone in the Scottish highlands and is transported back some two hundred years to 1743.

Here, now, is The Fiery Cross, the eagerly awaited fifth volume in this remarkable, award-winning series of historical novels. The year is 1771, and war is approaching. Jamie Fraser’s wife has told him so. Little as he wishes to, he must believe it, for hers is a gift of dreadful prophecy—a time-traveller’s certain knowledge. To break his oath to the Crown will brand him a traitor; to keep it is certain doom. Jamie Fraser stands in the shadow of the fiery cross—a standard that leads nowhere but to the bloody brink of war.

No. 250

This is my 250th post. Which is not a lot compared to some but is a lot compared to others.

I began blogging in this blog in August 2006, but it was not my first effort. I had been blogging on AOL for two (or more) years prior when AOL changed its format. After some time I decided to switch to blogger and well, here I am. Whoopee.

Blogging is different from journaling or diary writing, though people compare them. For one thing, I am utterly aware that I have an audience, even if it is just one person. My journals, and there are many because I have always done some kind of introspective writing, were never meant to be seen. Not even by me sometimes.

With a blog I am keenly aware that something in here might come back to haunt me. I mean, what if I were to run for political office? Will I be answering stupid questions from reporters about what I meant in such and such an entry?

I don't find blogging hard, mostly because I have no great expectations for myself with this. I try to do it every day but I don't beat myself up if I fail. I never wrote in my journal every single day either.

I do miss my journal, that repository of thoughts, though. I stopped writing those kinds of entries long ago, well before I was blogging, though. But sometimes there are days when I think, I need to just write about so-and-so and get that event off my mind. Sometimes I do it, but since I have no place, no designated notebook or anything, I find myself at a loss with what to do with it.

Weird, I know.

Anyway, here's to 250. I'm raising a root beer in salute.

Trillium

Yesterday my friend J. S. and I took a jaunt to a secret area.

My goal was to see if the trillium was in bloom (you may recall I wrote about earlier jaunts to see the trillium here.). The plants were in full thrall, though some of it looked like it was near the end of its course. The forest floor was covered with the plant; it looked like something out of a fairy tale. A way to an enchanted place, perhaps. Surely there were gnomes and elves and other woodland myths at the far end of this trail of lovelies.







Trillium, according to Wikipedia, has about 50 varieties. I have no idea what variety this particular flower might be. My mother told me that the variety hidden in this vale is rare, and to me it looks like it's trillium ovatum which can't be right because apparently that grows out west, not here in southwestern Virginia.

If you pick a trillium plant, you kill it. It is illegal in some states to pick trillium because it takes years for the plants to come back. Perhaps this wild patch of trillium has been growing for decades. It has been there at least a decade, probably longer. I know of only a few people who would venture into the area in the spring who might have seen it.

I am happy to share it with you.

So long, Great Great Aunt

I did not know Aunt Pearl very well; I don't think I have seen her in at least 20 years. When I was a child, my grandmother would walk us up to downtown Salem so we could buy ourselves toys at Newberry's with our allowance money. We always stopped by Aunt Pearl's house for a sit on the porch and a sip of lemonade or Coke.

She was the sister of my great-grandfather, my grandmother's aunt. I think I have that right. She would have been 64 when I was born, so of course I always remember her as being old.

My grandmother is 83 and her sister is 87, but my mother died at 56. Aunt Pearl was 107. I am not sure what that says about my longevity odds.

Aunt Pearl saw the world change. She lived the entire 20th century; I don't suppose many people can say that. She saw two world wars, lots of other wars, the invention of TV, the advent of electricty and telephones in every home, man on the moon, the love connection of the 60s, the 1950s Daddy Knows Best era, the Me's of the 1970s. Her early life was spent in a time when we still cooked with fire, not electricity, and refrigeration was just starting to become a way of life for every household.

She stayed by herself until she about 105 and only in recent months did she finally end up in a nursing home.

Farewell, Aunt Pearl. You outlived many.

***

Moving On

(Note: This was written 4/23/07 and appeared in a local publication several days later.)

The soil was cool in my hands as I sifted it. Saturday morning the air was still, crisp and clean, a relief from the ill winds that blew in earlier in the week.

The sky overhead seemed an endless blue ceiling leading to heaven.
My garden had waited long enough for me to bring some green to it. I mapped out my rows, then I struck at the dirt with my favorite hoe, the one that says “Real Tools for Kids” on the side.

As my tool thwacked against the ground, the songbirds heralded the day with a Hallelujah chorus. The dove cooed, a blue jay squawked, the robin with a nest in the spruce next to the garden fussed eloquently at me as I perspired.

The earth smelled sweet and the fragrance buoyed my spirits better than any man-made perfume.

The ancient garden rake let me down as its metal part separated from wood. I stared at it a while before trudging inside for duct tape.

Not the best fix, but it worked.

The raking and hoeing done, I dropped to my knees with cabbage and lettuce plants in hand. The tiny shoots pulled easily from their container, and I talked to each as I patted soil around the roots.
“You’ll like it out here, there’s a lot more sunshine,” I promised.

The lettuce, which had been in the garage since the cold snap, was looking especially peaked and in need of light.

Next I made rows of radishes, green beans, kale and cucumbers, then piled up the dirt for a couple of hills of squash. I pushed my luck with some of the vegetables, the ones with “plant after no chance of frost” on them. But I am gambling that the cold weather has passed and we’re on our way to summer.

Garden planted, I turned to the flower beds. My roses were growing heartily a few weeks ago, but now leaves, deadened by frost bite, dangled from branches. Snip. Snip. Some well-placed cuts and the plants looked perky again.

The sun blazed and a cool breeze dried my face, red with heat and effort, while I took a rest with a glass of water. Soil dotted my T-shirt and the knees of my jeans were caked with mud.

I said a quiet prayer as I thought about the long week. What a time of loss and sorrow, of bad omens and brave heroics those days had been. At the time it did not seem the week could end with a beautiful Saturday.

But it did. Mother Nature brought a day of comfort and renewal.

It was a moving on.

Thursday Thirteen

1. I picked up a copy today of the Consumer Information Catalog from my local library.

2. You can order useful phamplets from this. The information is created by goverment entities.

3. In the past I have ordered information on topics such as oral cancer in an effort to get my husband to stop chewing tobacco.

4. My efforts went unheeded.

5. The publications range from free to $15.00.

6. Topics range from cars (buying a new car) to computer to education to employment to food.

7. Something like "Your Right to Federal Records" on the Freedom of Information Act costs $1.

8. A phamplet on Restaurant and Take-Out Safety costs you nothing.

9. I plan to order several phamplets on allergies. They are free.

10. I might order one on cholesterol. It is free, too.

11. I think some of the documents that they charge for should be free and some of the free ones maybe should have a charge.

12. For example, it costs $2.75 for a copy of the Constitution of the United States and the Declaration of Independence.

13. Now I know the price of knowledge of democracy: $2.75.

The Cold Snap

The April cold snap has done a lot of damage to the vegetation. I was at Ikenberry's Monday and G. told me they'd lost about half of their fruit crop.

Apples and peaches will be scarce and expensive this summer, I fear.

This is the view out my window now:



This is what it looked like before the cold snap:



Isn't the first picture scary? I am hoping the trees will recover, but when I was walking Sunday and examining the oaks, I saw little sign of new leaves.

Now we have this odd juxtaposition of dead growth and new growth. It is weird.

I think global warming is misnamed. It should be called global environmental change, because I think that more adequately describes what is happening. The environment is changing.

I wonder if the trees will adapt.

Save Chocolate!

Like OMG.

The FDA wants to change the rules for chocolate making. They want to let "real chocolate" be made not with cocoa butter but with fat substitutes. Vegetable fat.

You can read about it here in the L.A. Times. In part, it says:

The FDA is entertaining a "citizen's petition" to allow manufacturers to substitute vegetable fats and oils for cocoa butter.

The "citizens" who created this petition represent groups that would benefit most from this degradation of the current standards. They are the Chocolate Manufacturers Assn., the Grocery Manufacturers Assn., the Snack Food Assn. and the National Cattlemen's Beef Assn. (OK, I'm not sure what's in it for them), along with seven other food producing associations.

This is what they think of us chocolate eaters, according to their petition on file at the FDA:

"Consumer expectations still define the basic nature of a food. There are, however, no generally held consumer expectations today concerning the precise technical elements by which commonly recognized, standardized foods are produced. Consumers, therefore, are not likely to have formed expectations as to production methods, aging time or specific ingredients used for technical improvements, including manufacturing efficiencies."

Let me translate:
"Consumers won't know the difference."

I don't know about you, but I will notice the difference. Cocoa butter chocolate melts in your mouth; its the texture that gives good chocolate its nearly orgasmic sensations. We already have "imitation" chocolate - and I don't eat it. It's the stuff you try to pawn off on kids when you accidentally purchase it at the store.

They don't eat it either.

The scarier thing about this is that essentially this "citizen petition" is asking for a complete relaxation of food standards by the FDA on the basis that we have labels now and if we don't read them to see that things in the food will kill us that's our problem.

This is a request to relaxe food standards.

The lack of government oversight during recent years has brought us the peanut butter scare, the dog food scare, the spinach scare, etc., etc. ad naseum .... need I say more about what we're in for if food standards are lessened? It's not just about the taste.

Read the FDA thing for yourself here. If you want to comment, go here.

Thanks to redsneakz over at Separation Anxiety for pointing this out.

The Gaffe

Thursday I had reason to be at the funeral home to offer condolences.

My in-laws and husband came too, as our dear departed was a family friend. Most of the neighborhood and town turned out to say farewell to the elderly woman.

After we had all paid our respects, we stood around as people do, looking over the room, making sure we hadn't missed any family members. A lady spotted me and flung up a hand, "Hey A.," she said.

"Oh, hi! Have you met my mother-in-law? E. F., this is Lynn B.," I said, as politely and helpfully as one could be.

They shook hands. "Nice to meet you, I'm Jane J.," said the erroneously labeled newcomer.

Properly mortified, what could I say? "I'm sorry, I mistook you for Lynn B., I never realized before how much you look alike," I stammered.

In hindsight, they look nothing alike, but at the funeral parlor, and particularly with Lynn B.'s name on my mind because my mother-in-law had mentioned her to me just a few moments before, I could have sworn they were twins.

I can only imagine how Jane J. relayed that conversation to her husband, who is actually someone I do know on sight. In my defense, I think I've actually met Jane J. twice in my lifetime, but still, I should know her on sight.

Unfortunately I deal with a lot of people in my work, and folks whom I spent an hour interviewing (occasionally years and years before) sometimes thinks that means I know who they are. It's not unusual for me to be accosted in the grocery store by strangers who read my work in the paper and think they know me. In fact I rarely get through the store without somebody stopping me for a chat. Generally speaking I don't mind; I like to chat. And who knows when another story for the paper will come out of a greeting.

But I do get greatly embarrassed when I can't remember names. Sometimes I just pretend I know who these people are, and they walk away apparently without realizing I am clueless. (And usually remain clueless, never to know who the heck I was talking to.) Other times I say, "I'm so sorry, I know I should know who you are, but I can't seem to recall."

People don't like it if you don't remember who they are. I understand that; your name is an important part of your identity. This is a real problem for me; I can recall faces but if someone is "out of place" I have a very difficult time remembering them. I do name association things, like "Karen works at the Kourthouse" or "Annie at APCO" to try to remember, but it does not always work. And when you deal with hundreds of different people throughout the year, well, it gets confusing.

Since I have such difficulty recalling names, I usually introduce myself right away to people when I call or greet them. One of the most memorable times I did that was when I called a lawyer I had worked for seven years prior to ask for a referral. "Hi Walt, this is A., remember? I worked for you at . . . ."

His somewhat incredulous response was along the lines of, "Of course I remember, I'd have to be a complete idiot to forget." And what do you say to that?

And then there are people I recognize but haven't seen in a while, and I sometimes say something like, "Hey! It's A., remember, we met at thus and so ..." and they usually look annoyed and say "Of course I remember."

I fear they take it as an insult when I re-introduce myself to them.

So having made this terrible gaffe most recently, I scratch my head and wonder how to overcome this obvious deficit in my brain functioning. It is a problem I suspect will only worsen as I age.

"Remember me? Good, 'cause I've forgotten you." Yikes. I haven't, not really. I know who you are.

I just don't know your name.

Give Peace a Chance

After the rather rough week we've had here in Virginia, it seems fitting to remind fellow bloggers of the Peace Globe. On June 6, 2007, bloggers will once again show the world that they're intent on stopping violence.

The Peace Globe promotion is the brainchild of Mimi over at MimiWrites. You can get your own peace globe there, if you like.

I hope anyone interested in peace will participate. Maybe it's a good time to remember the events of April 16, too, and wonder how we can stop such a thing from ever happening again.

I pray for peace on each and every day, and I hope that peace finds you and holds you close. Remember to tell the folks you care about that you love them.

Book: Full Bloom

Audio book
Full Bloom, by Janet Evanovich & Charlotte Hughes
Read by Lorelei King

This book doesn't have the laughs that Stephanie Plum brings in Evanovich's other books, but it was interesting enough.

Annie has lots of problems. She has a ghost, a wedding to plan that will be held in her bed and breakfast, a drunken hired hand, and a missing husband.

Enter Wes, a private eye who poses as a photographer. He was hired by Annie's mother-in-law, who suspects Annie killed her husband. Along the way to resolution there is a rolling pin, a body, an arrest, a drunken binge, a pair of underwear with hearts on them ... it's not a madcap but it is fun.

3.75 stars

Books: Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series.
Audio books (mostly read by Lorelei King)

Vols. 1-12

Evanovich's Stephanie Plum books are a hoot. Stephanie Plum is bounty hunter, a rather inept one, at that.

She has two boyfriends and a grandmother who constantly crack me up.

That said, I confess I haven't "read" a one of the books; I have listened to every one of them as an audiobook. Sometimes they are so funny I have to stop the car and laugh. Sometimes I sit in the car in the driveway just to keep listening.

They are that good.

4.5 stars (all Stephanie Plum books)

Book: Trickster's Choice

Trickster's Choice, by Tamora Pierce
Copyright 2003
425 pages

Tamora Pierce writes fantasy that ends up in the teen genre, though I don't know why. I read it and thoroughly enjoy her work.

Trickster's Choice brings us young Aly, daughter of Alanna, the King's Champion. Aly needs a direction. She wants to be a spy like her father, George, but her parents frown on that. She decides to take a little adventure and gets herself kidnapped and sold into slavery.

Enter a trickster god and you have the makings of an intriguing fanciful plot to bring a new ruler to the throne. Along the way Aly realizes her skills, makes friends, and earns her freedom.

Great book.

4.5 stars (I'd give it 5 but it starts out a little slow.)

Thursday Thirteen: Being Green

Things I do in the name of being environmentally friendly:

1. Recycle old newspapers.

2. Take my magazines and old books to the library, where they are either added to the shelves or sold to fund Friends of the Library initiatives.

3. Use the energy-saver light bulbs in all my ceiling lights.

4. Have the water-saver toilets and shower heads.

5. Recycle plastics, including grocery bags (I really need to find some good canvas totes).

6. Buy veggies from the local farmers.

7. Grow my own food in a garden every year.

8. Turned down the temperature in the hot water heater.

9. Completely unplug appliances I don't use.

10. Use the library a lot instead of buying new books.

11. Put as many stops as I can into my trips, so that I am not making multiple trips in the car to run errands.

12. I drive a car that gets good gas mileage (30+ mpg).

13. I write about conservation issues in order to make people think about what they're doing.

The wind still blows

The wind took the top out of this cedar tree, which is beside my house:

Said tree top ended up in the fence, tearing out a post completely. Husband replaced it right away because otherwise the cows would be in the yard.

The winds have been tremendous for the last two days. I have had to stay indoors because the wind makes my ear hurt terribly. When I went out to take those photos, I put on earmuffs and a scarf to keep the wind from causing me pain.

As far as I'm concerned, we've come through the windstorm unscathed. A broken tree top and fence line is pretty much nothing. I know we have schools out because of power outages, and we've been quite lucky in that regard. It's blinked, but that is all.

I am hoping for warmer and calmer days.

Books: Queen of Broken Hearts, Summer Reading, the Great Far Away

Queen of Broken Hearts, by Cassandra King.

Southern women. Romance. Mystery. Good read, but long and slow.

4 stars


Summer Reading, by Hilma Wolitzer (Publication date: June 1, 2007)

(I read the galley proof). One intriguing and interesting character of three main characters.

3.5 stars


The Great Far Away, by Joan Frank.

Don't bother.

1 star

Windy Day

The wind has been blowing about 50 mph today. We've lost the top of a cedar tree and some fence.

Apparently the near-hurricane winds blew craziness across the mountains, for there has been a mass shooting at V.T. I have been watching the coverage, stunned. Everyone I know who attends or teaches there has been accounted for. Right now the numbers are 31 killed and 29 wounded, for a total of 60. The story is unfolding and more details will come.

It makes for a bad Monday, that's for sure. It's stunning news. I feel for the families.

The photo is a tom turkey that was in the backyard on Friday.

Project 99% Complete

At long last, after four months of solid work by my husband, the rental property I inherited from my mother in 2001 is ready to rent. Not only that, we think we have found someone who wants it, a process which took less time than I imagined. A lot of people are looking for a place to live.

I never imagined myself a landlord and this is not a coveted title, but four words in my mother's will has me pretty much unable to do anything with this property other than rent it. Kind of amazing, the power of four words, isn't it?

Here are some before and after photos: This is a bedroom (or just a room).
Before:

After:


This is what the kitchen looked like before:


This is what it looks like now. We still have to put in a stove, which will happen this week:



This is the hallway/furnace room before:
This is what it looks like now:


And so on and so forth. This is the work we did: new floors all over, new paint or new paneling everywhere, new toilets in both bathrooms, new shower heads, new plumbing, new vanities in the bathrooms, new light fixtures, new ceiling fans, new shelving in the kitchen cabinets, new hardware on the kitchen cabinets, one new window, part of a new wall, new ceiling tile in the kitchen/great room, new propane furnace, and an enormous amount of cleaning.

We had to take out a loan to do all of this work and spent thousands, not counting my husband's labor. It was an enormous effort by my husband to get the place clean and remodeled - he worked on it until 9:30 at night for many nights (because of course he also had to work his THREE other jobs).

Because I have bad allergies and asthma, I could not help much (I am allergic to dust and cats, and the previous tenants (who I also inherited along with the house) had cats and apparently had no idea what a vacuum cleaner was, plus I'm allergic to paint, so I am pretty much useless in a renovation project).

Anyway, the house is three bedrooms, a great room/kitchen, two baths, and an attic loft room. It is 1,500+ square feet. On the exterior it's aluminum siding, with a front porch. It is an old farmhouse that has been reworked, is what it is. It was built in the very early 1900s and the structural craftsmanship in the older part of the house is about 100 times better than what was added on in the 1970s.

This is what it looks like on the exterior (this is an old shot but we didn't make many changes outside):



When we have someone settled in the place, it will be a real load off our minds and quite a relief. I know some people would like this kind of thing, but it has been a trial for us, probably in part because it was thrust upon us. But that is another really long story.

Writer Kurt Vonnegut dies at 84

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/6547399.stm

One of the outstanding figures of modern US literature, Kurt Vonnegut, has died aged 84 in New York.

He became a cult figure among students in the 1960s and 1970s with his classics of US counterculture. He wrote plays, essays and short fiction.

The defining moment of his life was the firebombing of Dresden, in Germany, by allied forces in 1945 - an event he witnessed as a young prisoner of war.

His experience was the basis of his best-known work, Slaughterhouse Five.

It was published in 1969 against the backdrop of the war in Vietnam, racial unrest and cultural and social upheaval in the United States.

****

Thursday Thirteen

1. Today
2. I
3. Can't
4. Think
5. Of
6. Anything
7. To
8. Write
9. That
10. Has
11. Any
12. Real
13. Meaning

Mid-Week

Spring.

Photoshopped in MS Picture-It

It is raining very hard. I just got in from a budget hearing. No one spoke, well, except for school board members. The public? Eh. They could care less how their tax dollars get spent, so long as their tax rate doesn't go up much.

The rain should help with the pollen; actually, the freeze might have helped with the pollen a little. I like spring and fall the best of the seasons and I suffer through them both with my horrid allergies. I certainly don't like it when the fruit trees freeze and lose their fruit. I'll suffer through sneezes in spring for peaches in August, sure enough.

Happy Easter

I have no memory of a "first Easter" in my childhood, but I do know it was around Easter time when I learned the truth of the childhood myths perpetuated by parents.

My chores at the tender age of five (I know my because of where we lived when this happened, and we moved when I was five), consisted of washing the dishes while standing on a chair, vacuuming (which I recall finding difficult), and dusting everything within reach. My mother dusted the upper shelves.

Apparently I had graduated to dusting everything via climbing upon chairs, because on this day I was dusting upper shelving. I had recently lost a tooth, and my tongue played constantly with the new hole in my mouth. I broke the baby tooth out by falling upon the stoop on my grandmother's carport while I was shaking out a baby blanket for my doll. I stepped on a corner of the blanket and proceeded to pull it out from under myself, falling face forward. My tooth took the brunt of the fall.

(As a consequence of this, I stopped playing with dolls.)

After a trip to the dentist, the tooth fairy visited me at night and left me an entire Kennedy half dollar (which I still have). This was a small fortune for me in 1968 and also an unusual coin for our household, or so I thought.

So it was that near Easter, maybe even Easter weekend, I was dusting a new place I had not dusted before, for whatever reason. As I dusted, I came across a dish filled with a treasure of Kennedy half dollars. I remember standing on the chair and pushing the coins around with my chubby little finger, looking at the great number of them.

I am given to incremental leaps of logic and thought, so much so that I can get from A to Z without a clue how I got there and nevertheless be right (and sometimes quite wrong, too). In one of those leaps, I immediately connected the coin to the tooth fairy.

I remember my mother coming into the room as I stood holding the dish. I asked her if the coin beneath my pillow came from this dish. She hesitated, and I knew the truth. There was no tooth fairy, and I said as much. "You're the tooth fairy," I remember saying. Not accusingly, just knowingly.

Then in another great leap of thought, I made the connection that if there was no tooth fairy, there was no Easter bunny. And also no Santa.

I told this to my mother also, who did not deny that I had discovered the secrets of these mythical benefactors. So from the age of five onward, I did not believe in things I could not see, knowing there were generally explanations to which I was not privy.

I did, however, assist my parents in perpetuating the secret with my younger brother, so much so that I think he was nearly in his teens before he realized there was no Peter Rabbit. I remember his tears as he accused me, somewhat angrily, of lying to him. It seemed my hiding the truth from him bothered him more than the fact that our parents did the same.

This is not a holiday I celebrate anymore with chocolate or mythical bunnies. I celebrate it with thoughtfulness and prayer and dinner with family. I remember the reason for the celebration - those being, for me, Christ is risen and the rebirth of the earth as spring begins the renewal process anew.

Somewhere inside of me, I think, a child longs for that magic, that time of wonder and belief. I hope that this year I can renew that childish spirit, and make her soar.

Books: Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

Caedmon Audio
Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. Audio Collection
Performed by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

Features selections from: Slaughterhouse Five, Welcome to the Monkey House, Breakfast of Champions, Cat's Cradle.

A friend mentioned something to me about Vonnegut and I thought I had not read anything by him, having somehow skipped him, but I was wrong.

After checking out this audio tape from the library, I realized I was indeed familiar with his work. I just hadn't read it in about 25 years and had forgotten.

Hearing the words in the author's voice is quite interesting. In these selections, Vonnegut even sings tunes fo the listener.

I liked Welcome to the Monkey House best, I think.

I enjoy these commentaries disguised as SF. They are as true today as when written, if a little dated. Very Ray Bradbury-ish, too.

4.5 stars

Books: Rococo by Adriana Trigiani

Audio Book: Read by Mario Cantone

Adriana Trigiani gives an entertaining read in this book, which is NOT a Big Stone Gap book.

This story is set in New Jersy and tells the story of Bartolomeo di Crespi (aka "B"). B is a bachelor and interior designer who desperately wants to renovate the Catholic Church, Our Lady of Fatima, in his community. He comes from a large Italian family (lots of cousins and nephews) and has an older sister named "Toots" who cares for him. Their role eventually swaps during the novel and B. comes into his own, mostly because Toots has an affair with her ex!

B. also has a platonic fiance' who eventually marries someone else. He meets up with an international designer named Eddie who sparks him, but B. is ultimately in love with his work, not women.

This novel is more character-driven than plot-driven, and certainly nothing greatly eventful happens, but this is an entertaining glimpse into families and relationships and humanity overall.

Not quite as intriguing to me as the Big Stone Gap novels, but that could be simply because those books remind me so much of home.

3.5 stars

Thursday Thirteen

1. The moon last night was nearly blood red when I looked out the kitchen window about 8:45 p.m. I could see it through the trees and it looked quite ghostly.

2. I have an Audubon society book for the southeastern states that I refer to quite frequently. Every year I have to look up the wildflowers because I can never remember what they are.

3. I also have a book on wildflowers by Leonard Atkins called "Wildflowers of the Appalachian Trail." Atkins lives in my county and I have met him. Of course I did an article on him.

4. My mother loved wildflowers and she and a friend would walk the woods every spring and into the summer in search of unique or unusual wildflowers.

5. She could identify jack-in-the-pulpit, chicory, and floating bladderwort on site.

6. I never have been able to do that but I've also never applied myself to learning the names of the wildflowers.

7. One year in April I called Mom and asked her to come and walk with me to the back of the farm to see a patch of wildflowers.

8. The woods were full of trillium, which apparently is native to the area but not common. My mother was ecstatic at the find and I remember she was quite childlike in her delight of the flower.

9. The following year Mom was too ill to visit the trillium patch, so I walked there with my friend B., who's mother had just passed away.

10. We stood in silence a long time looking at the wildflowers, each thinking, I suppose, different thoughts of our mothers, hers having just passed away and mine not far from following.

11. I cannot visit the trillium now without thinking of my mother, who died a few months later, and my friend.

12. We are forever bound by the deaths of our mothers in the same year.

13. We're also bound by the wildflowers, my mother and B. and me.

Reposed Thoughts

Yesterday I interviewed a couple who ditched their lives in northern/eastern VA and moved here. They bought an old (very large) house and are embarking upon a restaurant/B&B adventure.

They are 43 years old. They called this their "retirement".

He has retired from a police force; she used to be in marketing. They travel to Europe two or three times a year and also across the US.

I always wonder how people can manage to do these things. Where do they get their money? Did their old house sell for millions?

Police officers do not make that kind of money, unless other cities do better than Roanoke. Roanoke's retirement packages might keep you afloat but you're not going to move forward with it.

Maybe marketing pays better than freelancing for newspapers?

When we take vacation, my husband farms and uses the time to plow or rake hay or do whatever needs doing; I just keep working on writing work. I might take a day for spring cleaning, but I don't think that really counts as recreation.

We do not go to Europe. We're lucky if we make it to Myrtle Beach for a weekend.

Is this envy? No, more like curiousity. I just want to know how it's done.

Spring

The trees are turning green.

The hyacinths are blooming

The turkeys are enjoying the greening grass.

The redbuds are in full color.

The dogwoods are showing off their white petticoats.

The Hard Choices

The problem is, no one will make the hard choices.

I was thinking about this in relation to the electic company and the news yesterday that instead of a 25 percent increase for Appalachian Power, one SCC member is recommending a 3.9 percent increase.

This SCC member has looked at the greater good (and thousands of letters from an irate public) and determined that big business doesn't need to be massively profitable.

Government can step in and control things. It could take away the excessive monies CEOs make, for instance. But government has chosen instead to take monies from those who make less and give it to the wealthy because they then make jobs. Supposedly this trickle-down economics works, but there is a growing disparity between the rich and poor in the United States.

This is not new news; the gap has been increasing marginally for years but has grown since the new millinum. I can't find where I read it, but an article I read earlier this week indicates the disparity has now reached 1920s levels and is close to what it was before the Great Depression.

In the 1940s, we had a great war. Roosevelt made some hard choices. People today, except the old folks who are nearly gone, have no idea what went on during World War II. People rationed and sacrified.

To give you an idea of how much they sacrificed and worked, I will tell you several things. Most of this comes from my husband's grandmother, who is now deceased. Some of it I looked up (in books, remember those?).

They had a hog farm here in Botetourt and during the war, the farm was mobilized for food production for the army. This was mandated and ordered by the government, not a choice. They had to produce food and the government bought it. All of their hams and corn and everything else went to feed the soldiers.

The government also stopped production of retail vehicles, etc., and the companies turned to making whatever the army needed. Soldiers were not going without the proper armor for lack of trying.

At this time, there wasn't synthetic rubber, so tires and other rubber products were severely rationed. Only medical personnel or other specific industries could get tires. The average person could not get a tire, and if a tire became slick, the car owner went before a board to ask for a retreading.

Could you imagine that happening today?

There was also a rubber drive and on average, every American donated about 7 pounds of rubber back to the government.

The government began rationing gas on the eastern seaboard on 15 May 1942. Drivers generally were granted five gallons of gas a week, unless they were doctors making rounds or something like that.

There were also ration books. A family got 48 points a month to spend on any combination of goods, including food and clothing. The president urged everyone to plant a Victory garden, and most people did.

The price of food and other necessary goods was kept in check by strict governmental controls. Price gouging was not allowed.

My husband's grandmother toiled along with the rest of the family to produce food for the soldiers. She was Rosie the Riveteer except on the farm. They were compensated for it at rates set by the government. Food prices were among those specifically stabilized by the government.

Roosevelt raised taxes and set limits on personal wealth. No individual could make more than $25,000 (which was a lot of money back then). Corporations could make so much and then the government took everything else. The tax rate on some people and corporations went as high as 95 percent.

I am not saying I want to go back to those days. I'm just pointing out that no one in government at this time, regardless of party, is prepared to come right out and ask anyone - or any corporation - to sacrifice. Not like that.

The truth is some sacrifice has been forced via stealth upon the lower and middle class while the upper classes continue to thrive. But it is not to support the war, it is to support the large corporations and the upper class. That's why there is such an income disparity.

Political leaders, regardless of party, aren't going to make hard choices. They're a bunch of wimps who would allow the vast majority to suffer because they don't want to give up their fancy dinners in Las Vegas.

The greater good is a concept so far removed from them that it may as well not exist. For that reason, I applaud the SCC hearing examiner who had the courage to stand up to a big corporation and say, essentially, you don't need to be making so much money. Now we'll see if the rest of the SCC board has courage, too.

For the last several weeks, I have been watching reruns of Buffy, The Vampire Slayer on FX while I lift weights and lunge and ride the exercise bike.

Every morning I have seen this Cesar commercial during the show. Those dogs are so cute! And the guitar plunking that goes with it is trapped in my brain! Somebody make it stop!

I have been watching Buffy because I only saw up through I guess season four. I really liked the show and the characters. When the show moved from WB to UPN, I couldn't get the channel and so I missed three seasons. I don't know how it ended. Then I realized a few weeks ago that Buffy was on in reruns and in the last of its seven seasons. So I am watching to see how it all ends, even though I am a little spotty on the details, having missed two other seasons of the show.

I have the first two seasons on DVD. Maybe eventually I will get the whole series so I will have it. Something for the Christmas list, maybe.

Anyway, when season seven winds up here in two weeks, I'll be back to watching DVDs and exercising to that. Whee.